Ramblings and Depressing Stuff

I missed you a lot yesterday. I don't know why yesterday more so than others. I drove to that place and just stared at it for a while and it made me so sad and I cried.

It's no secret I don't always handle change well, and now with this move being the biggest change going on right now, maybe that's part of it. A lot happened while I lived in this apartment. Not a lot happened in the apartment itself, but in general, I became a different person while living here. But there are some bad things I am leaving here and that is good.

This is where Drake and I broke up, and anything Drake-related (including that big box of crap that belongs to him) can stay here. Bad mo-jo, definitely.

I cried a lot in the hallway by my bedroom while I lived here. I don't know why, what made that spot kind of comforting. I sat there the night in September my mom called and told me Teddy had died. I sat there and cried on the phone with her, then later with my aunt. He'd been my best friend and I hadn't been there to hold him.

Maybe because that's where I was walking toward when Brett called me that morning and told me what happened. I know the exact spot I had been standing when "Don't Stop Believing" started playing from my phone and I wondered why he was calling - what could be so important he would call me from Kansas City, what wait until the following day when he got back into town. I had been walking in that hallway, when it was like my knees gave out and I just sank to the floor and repeated "what?!" over and over and over. Sometimes I still don't believe it.

I think about what happened at Va Tech and anything I've been through seems so minuscule, but it's not. What is monumental in one life isn't such a big deal compared to what someone else might have gone through, but it is still a huge event nonetheless. Everything is relative. It's so heart-breaking, what those parents have had to go through in the last week - including the family of the shooter, as they are victims in this as well. I can't imagine how it would feel to have to walk into a morgue and identify my child, it's so sickening and so sad. No parent should ever have to do that, ever.

This post has gotten heavy very quickly, so I think I will just wrap this up and be on my way, or I might have to go sit in my hallway again. I've got too much to do today to just sit and cry.